


The Chaos of Wanting

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: I am wretched in my wanting of you. I will never have you and I will never touch your skin. Never taste the salt of sweat and feel it clammy on my body. Never know the way your eyes glisten over, the tight grip of our fingers intertwining, the soft feather press of your lips, the delicious way your body bows to me. I want to hear you gasp, the sounds of your breath in my ear, the way my name sounds in your voice. I want to read you like one of your books.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	The Chaos of Wanting

Wanted. Crowley has wanted.

It's a cruel sick miserable thing. It makes us mad, tormented. He once heard someone say: I am broken. You have ruined. We see ourselves destroyed by desire and longing. We become different people. To ruin is to wreck and be wrecked. The chaos is what we crave. We like the bitter-sweet blood in our veins at suffering. We are suckers for self-tortrue. 

It is hope that kills us. Hope that brightens our reality and makes us realise that what we crave, we will never have. I am wretched in my wanting of you. I will never have you and I will never touch your skin. Never taste the salt of sweat and feel it clammy on my body. Never know the way your eyes glisten over, the tight grip of our fingers intertwining, the soft feather press of your lips, the delicious way your body bows to me. I want to hear you gasp, the sounds of your breath in my ear, the way my name sounds in your voice. I want to read you like one of your books. 

Crowley remembers Eden. The Beginning.

Azriapahle talked about hairs. The fine little hairs on our arms and the back of our necks. The little individual strands that are touch-sensitive, each follicle hyper aware even if there is just a little brush against it. Crowley was never concerned with his body before. He didn't worry about how he looked, a hollow host made of flesh and bone and blood and organs that merely served as a means for me to exist in this world. Inside he was a celestial being - a soul - that had seen and done things that those with shorter life spans couldnt even think up in their wildest dreams. He was just made of human cells. Given a body to be cursed to walk on Earth as a demon. Just a simple body.

That was until every single cell - all the trillions and trillions of particles - became acutely aware of an angel's existence. Aziraphale was mere centimetres away and Crowley was drawn to him as if the very existence of him being needed to be close to him. He remembers how it felt when he first touched the angel. Magnitised. Electrified. Immensely awakened by just a hand touch. He was staring at the white haired being trying to figure it out as well. Why was it like this? 

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon," he had said. 

And that was it. They were inseparable, destined to meet in strange, unforgettable places over the centuries. 

Then he realised that there were things that couldn't be explained. There were truths that even he was not privy to. Crowley likes to think. He thinks and thinks and overthinks. 

I took your hand in mine once. Remember that? You told me to taste the wine, try the oyster, nibble on some sour dough. We were in Rome. I bored into your eyes and suddenly the whole universe had opened up and I was floating again. Just me. Without a body. I was consumed in space and there you were. You grounded me and yet I felt like you were feeling it too. The shift of the Earth. The quake under our feet. The stars dying out and sparking up in their infinite death and rebirth cycle. The cosmos, the worlds that we haven't seen yet and the ones we visit in our dreams. Every single thing that makes up this vastness was now tied to us and we felt it all. We seemed to hold it together, you and I. 

But that was not entirely true. 

We are falling through space. We are space. And we were gifted to see it as a collective. Above all that that went through my mind of how our inner beings seem to want to reach out and entwine. I needed that. It was the most miraculous thing. For the time in my existence I was not alone. Because we are matched. Somehow in this ineffable workings of Time, we managed to meet in almost every era. I didn't plan it (okay sometimes I did, but mostly it happened on its own) we were thrown together. 

I knew that I couldn't picture my life without you. You being the parts of that I thought I had lost forever. I Fell. And I fell again and again. For you. 

That day when I had lost everything, the Last Days of the World, when I ran in to save you from your bookshop that was set on fire, I was truly shattered beyond repair, never to be fixed, pieces of me were scattered all over the galaxy. Did you know that when you came back and your body was remade by Adam I was restored as well? I wondered why we met that day when the first rain wet the Earth. Although it was not comprehensible at the time, now I understand. That instant connection. 

The mere trace of your finger igniting on my skin, I could barely breathe. 

I touched you the night before the Rest of Our Lives. I held your hand in mine and we swapped faces. There. There it was. I felt you. Your essence all around me. I breathed you into my pores and breathed out you in the same breath. You escape me. I hated the thought of losing you. (Still do. Still afriad you're going to leave.) I saved your life as you saved mine. I protected you, I caused a riot in Heaven and fear in Gabriel's cold heart. I did it for you. All for you, angel. 

Tell me how do you want me. Tell me I am not alone in this. 

Rid me of this wanting and let me be satisfied. 

Crowley thinks these things as he sits opposite Aziraphale on the couch in the angel's bookshop. He threads his fingers through the strands of the quilt thrown over the back of the couch as he sips on celebratory wine. 

The World had restarted. Things were made anew and it was good. Adam Young had changed the past, the present and the future. The Earth would get to have many more years to grow and the Humans could go on creating as they do without ever knowing that anything had changed.

For Aziraphale and Crowley however it had changed. 

The angel and demon had successfully stopped Armageddon and they now had the Rest Of Their Lives to do whatever they wanted without Heaven and Hell breathing heavily down their necks. Aziraphale finally took Crowley out to dine at the Ritz just like he promised in 1967. After they had finished their meal, Aziraphale went to check his bookshop. The fire that had previously destroyed his beloved antique collection of books he had collected over the centuries didn't even leave a flake of ash anywhere in the room. Adam had done a wonderful job replacing everything. 

"Everything looks just perfect! And look, he even left me his own collection of books. How lovely." Aziraphale had said beaming and Crowley couldn't help but stare openly at the angel. 

He tapped his fingers on the glass as he thought. Always thinking. Coming up with plans. Crowley is tired of thinking. 

"Do you remember when I said that we should run away together?" 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley. "Yes. I said no. Twice. I'm sorry, dear boy. I wish I had realised sooner how terrible those angels are." 

Crowley waved him off. "It doesn't matter now, angel. Look I was thinking, maybe we should still go somewhere? Not Alpha Centuri. We saved the Earth so I would like to stay here, but what if we moved...like move in together? Or something. Dunno. If you want?" 

"Move in together?" Aziraphale repeated with consideration to the matter. 

Crowley stuffed his fingers in the tight spaceless pockets of his black jeans and eyed the floor. He had been rejected already and he might as well give it a shot now that the World had restarted. They had been okay both of them inside Crowley's flat yesterday when they got off the bus and devised a plan to get out of being killed by Heaven and Hell respectively. It had been rather pleasant. Crowley liked being in Aziraphale's presence (to say the least) and he felt a strange tingle down his spine with having the angel in his flat in Mayfair. It was his personal space and having Aziraphale in it made him feel...different. Flushed. Giddy even. Aziraphale had never been inside his flat before. 

It almost felt intimate. 

"I'd like that," Aziraphale finally said. 

"What?" Crowley had been inside his head and hadn't really focused on Aziraphale's response. He momentarily forgot what he had asked him and then was stunned at his answer. "You want to get a place with me? Just the two of us?" 

"Yes. I think it would wonderful. How about we move close to sea side? I always wanted to sit and stare at the ocean while I read. You could bring your lovely plants, too." 

Crowley made a sound that was not human. "You really mean it?" 

"I do. I never said thank you to you properly for all you have done for me. I really appreciate it. I never would have survived without you." 

"Quite literally," Crowley muttered. "I did save you from death a few times."

"And my books!" 

"You still remember that?" 

"Of course. That was the night I fell--" Aziraphale blushed and shut his mouth. 

Crowley snapped his head sharply to the side, his mouth half gape, his brows furrowed. "You fell...?" 

"Oh, it's silly to say this now. I'm sure you know already. If you don't I have made a complete fool of myself." 

"Aziraphale," he breathed. "Er...please tell me so I don't go off wondering things and hoping for things that will never happen." His voice was thick with emotion.

"Does it need saying?" Aziraphale's eyes reflected what he wanted to say. 

Crowley nodded, understanding and being understood. 

They were finally at same place.


End file.
